'Bred Crumbs

Supply and Demanding

Sticker on the side of a bottle of flavored non-dairy creamer:

Man, the Cinnamon Vanilla Creme is surprisingly pushy.

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Commando Radio

We were up, but the alarm was still in snooze mode. The radio sprang to life, the announcer wrapping up the latest stab at weather forecasting. Then she said, "Another of Iraq's most wanted is captured. I'll have more after this."

As the commercial began to drone, Robbie started chuckling.

"What?"

"The way she said that." He quoted her, adding key emphasis. I caught on and joined the laughter.

The image stuck with me all the way to work: the woman busts open the sound-booth door, a couple of bound Iraqi fugitives slung over her shoulders. She sloughs them off; they hit the floor with a defeated thud.

"How much time?" she asks, only slightly breathless.

The engineer idly checks the clock. "Five seconds to spare."

"Damn," the announcer says as she settles in front of the mic to resume the update. "I could've bagged one more."

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Game of the Name

When I moved to Blogland, one of the reasons was so I could write on a whim, without pigeonholing the content in any way. That's why, unlike most bloggers, I've avoided item titles.

Now, there are item titles. Henceforth and retroactive to the beginning of this month.

As Jon Stewart might say: "Whaaaaaaaaa?"

Put your ear to the ground, and you can hear a redesign and an RSS feed coming. Two, three weeks off.

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Outward-Snarling Dog

If I came down a little hard on Queer Eye the other day, there may have been external forces at work. Truth is, I was a little cranky from yoga.

Take a moment to let the contradiction settle in, and I'll explain.

The main reason I've been dabbling in the bendy arts in the first place is because they should, in theory, take care of two polar-opposite ways I need to repair myself. Through yoga, I can actually exert my body for a change (what is this "exercise" of which you speak?), yet also learn to relax both my body and mind, thus helping to keep my neck and shoulders from knotting up like a Boy Scout in bondage school.

The relax-the-mind part is probably the biggest personal challenge, but yoga can do it, by making you focus on breathing and what you're trying to making your body do instead of on the world and your job and traffic and noisy neighbors. But that's only if your instructor doesn't try to give you a little sermon while you balance.

The teacher that night decided the class would have a theme: nonviolence. Nonviolence may indeed be one of the eight "limbs" of yoga, but it's not the one I'm paying twelve bucks for tonight. Not that I'm an especially violent person, but my cheek's turn radius isn't tight, and while I admire the Gandhic goal, I'll have to get there my own way. Which is not by being harangued about it while I'm struggling not to lose my tenuous hold* on Downward-Facing Dog.

And especially not when you begin the class with a thinly disguised advocacy of vegetarianism, my views of which are hilariously echoed in Guster's road journal. ("What about these sharp, predatory, gristle-grinding incisors in my mouth, Morrissey!?") The things I've read about yoga so far don't mention not eating meat, and neither does any Indian menu I've ever seen.

On top of the veggie sentiments and the clumsily read quotes from famous peaceful people, the instructor of this supposed beginner class also flung us into about five positions I hadn't yet encountered, and provided little useful guidance. That's when he acknowledged, in an attempt at humor, that we might be feeling anger toward him, which like all other anger we should just let go.

Well, even the best of spiritual or religious traditions could stand to learn from the wisdom of secular life, and here's a valuable pointer:

If a person is agitated, the surest way not to calm him down is to tell him to calm down.**

And the room was extra hot and sweaty, and I was a little challenged because I haven't yet figured out that yoga should be practiced more often than monthly. I did finally get to a place of quiet by what I call relaxy time at class's end, but it wasn't my best yoga experience. More no mas than namaste.

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* So-called sticky mats can actually be quite slippery. Discuss.

** Corollary: If you tell someone not to take something personally, you are ensuring that he will, and admitting that he has every reason to.

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